044 Solitary Shadow Across the Vast Desert

My head slammed into the car door, the resulting pain making me dizzy and disoriented for a moment. My chest pressed against Musa's back as I panted heavily, still caught in the lingering panic of the sudden jolt.

The white figure beneath me shifted slightly, as if deeply uncomfortable, yet his voice held no trace of anger—only a soft, barely perceptible tremor: "Are you alright?"

With him acting as a human cushion, only my head had taken a hit; everything else was fine. But the realization of this absurd and inappropriate posture hit me instantly. Enduring the throbbing pain in my head, I clutched it and scrambled back to my own seat, the shock still not entirely faded.

"Singh, I was just trying to get a bottle of water. Why'd you have to scare me like that?" I rubbed my swelling temple, complaining to Singh while trying to mask my embarrassment.

Singh glanced at the bottle in my hand—secured only after much hardship—and looked somewhat sheepish. "Sorry, I didn't see clearly for a second."

"Well, make sure you look a lot clearer next time," I scolded Singh with feigned severity, though my eyes kept drifting toward Musa. He had already straightened up, sleepiness completely gone, staring intently out the window at the endless stretches of monotonous yellow sand without a word.

The more silent he was, the more clueless I felt about what to do. With anyone else, such intimate contact might at most cause a girl to blush while a guy shrugged it off, but here, the roles were completely reversed.

"Are you... okay?" I asked tentatively.

My voice seemed to travel half a beat slower than usual. After a long moment, he slowly turned his head, a gentle smile touching his lips as if nothing had happened at all. "Of course I'm okay. I was just recalling the formation principles of aeolian landforms."

Seeing him like that, I finally let out a sigh of relief. I had been judging a gentleman's reactions with a petty mindset. Just as I relaxed, however, Professor Emodin turned his head with an amused expression and said to Musa, "Oh, really? Then why don't you explain the basic principles of aeolian landforms to me?"

Musa, the academic slacker: "..."

After several turns at the wheel by alternating drivers, we finally reached our destination as the daylight faded. Standing right there and then, I truly understood what it meant for the skies to be devoid of flying birds and the earth of running beasts; as far as the eye could see, there was only boundless, unending yellow sand.

The moment we stepped out of the car, the heat made our bodies and clothes stick together, damp with sweat. Dusk was falling, and though we had no work scheduled for today, we tacitly fell into a rhythm, pitching tents, lighting fires, washing dishes and utensils, cleaning vegetables, and organizing our luggage. As the only woman, and with Musa being a Muslim, we each occupied small, separate tents pitched close to one another.

When dinnertime arrived, Musa did not share from our communal pot; instead, he sat alone to the side, washing down his own brought dry rations with water. The rest of us scooped rice from the large pot, but the mischievous breeze refused to stay still, intermittently blowing in with fine grains of sand that forced everyone to duck and shield the bowls in their hands. Yet the wind-blown sand still darted in from every angle, ultimately adding a distinct "color" to the white rice in our bowls. We all laughed, and despite the awkward predicament, we found boundless joy in the meal.

After eating, just as I picked up my water to wash the dishes, I was startled to see Professor Emodin grab a handful of sand, drop it into his bowl, and vigorously rub the interior.

"What are you doing?" I asked, filled with wonder and confusion.

"It's only the first day, so we need to conserve water," Professor Emodin smiled, dumped the sand out of the bowl, and handed it to me for inspection. "Using sand to clean grease off dishes works remarkably well."

Charmed by this bizarre new skill, I scooped up a handful of fine sand and stirred it around in my own bowl. Right in the middle of this novel amusement, I glanced up casually and saw Musa sitting entirely alone, gazing out into the vast, pale desert. His solitary silhouette against the setting sun felt heavy and desolate, radiating an indescribable loneliness.